Acting Royal #Wattys2017

Chapter 4a

JENNY

Jenny wasn't exactly a frequent flyer. In fact, this was only the second time she'd flown and the way the small plane was swaying from side-to-side as it approached the runway, was unsettling, to say the least.

She'd just spent the last eight hours reading through the massive document that had been given to her. She was desperately trying to memorize all the information it contained, information that was imperative if she was going to pull of this "job". She already knew more than she ever wanted to about Zayn; his favorite food were oysters (she hated them, well, she'd never eaten them. Far too expensive. But if she did, she'd definitely dislike them.) He was 26 years old, turning 27, he liked to sleep on the left side of the bed (how that would come up in conversation though, she had no idea.) He liked watching Tennis, he hated watching rugby (the one thing on the list she actually liked, being a girl from the farm.) He had studied fine arts at university (This surprised her. He was probably just going through his 'arty girl' phase.) He proposed to her on his private yacht and they had been dating for six months. Her made up history was very interesting and illuminating too...

She slipped the book into her handbag and got up when the plane finally came to a stop. She looked around, Zayn was nowhere to be seen. She walked towards the exit and was immediately hit by the heat. The heat! It was nothing like she'd ever experienced in her entire life. It smothered and engulfed her and a fine sweat broke out across her skin instantly. It felt suffocating and the air buzzed and prickled at her flesh like a million ants crawling over her body. She walked down the stairs onto the tarmac where a black limo was waiting for her. She wiped her arm and her hand came away wet, she knew it was hot in this part of the world, but this was ridiculous. How did people survive out here?

She glanced at the limo, she didn't fancy the prospect of a long drive in such a confined space with him. Speaking of him, where the hell was he? She turned and looked back at the plane and that's when she saw him emerging and her jaw dropped.

She didn't think it was possible for him to look any better than he had, but clearly it was.

He'd changed out of his previous outfit and was now wearing a long white crisp robe. His feet were sandaled underneath it. She glanced up at his face, he was wearing a long red and white scarf on his head, a black ring that balanced on the top of his head held it all in place. She'd never seen anyone dress like this in real life, she knew that it was a traditional Arab outfit, but she'd only seen it in pictures.

She also would never have guessed that a man wearing something like that would look so good- but he did. It gave him a regal and polished air. It made him look exotic and otherworldly, like a man you could only dream up in your wildest imagination. She tried to look away, but couldn't. Her eyes zeroed in on his and she couldn't tear them away, no matter how hard she tried.

He also didn't seem to walk in the outfit, he seemed to float, only adding to the surreal quality of him. He glided down the stairs, as if the heat meant nothing to him. He looked cool, as if cold air was being blown on him by an invisible air conditioner. He slipped his dark glasses on and looked in her direction as he walked onto the tarmac. Jenny cleared her throat and finally willed her eyes elsewhere. She looked down at her feet- which she was sure were about to melt into the ground.

"Good flight?" he asked coming up to her, still smelling like he'd had an altercation in a fragrance store because she couldn't put her finger on one scent, instead he seemed to be a mixture of everything that smelt good in this world; early morning rain, toasted marshmallows, dark coffee, sandalwood and breath mints. God, this arrogant man unnerved her. For a second she felt so drunk on his scent that she almost forgot she hated him. But she did.